


Return

by celluloidbroomcloset



Category: The Avengers (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloidbroomcloset/pseuds/celluloidbroomcloset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after, as Steed and Emma wake up together for the first time in ten years. Takes place during The New Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

Emma awoke to the gentle tickle of lips on her neck. She opened her eyes and looked at her own silver watch entangled with a larger, golden one on a chain, one that was dented by a Canadian mule. A vague masculine rumble greeted her ears. She closed her eyes to enjoy once more the sensation of being in his arms. She did not want to rush leaving his bed. She pressed the hand that caressed her bare stomach, twined her fingers with his and squeezed them. Such a familiar hand.

“Steed,” she whispered.

“Did I wake you?” Sleepy, deep, sensual voice, as dear to her as the hand she held.

“Didn’t you mean to?” 

His hand traveled up her abdomen in gentle strokes. Fingers circled around one bare breast and then the other, not seeking anything but memory. He was reacquainting himself with her body. Not they had not done that in full the night before. Twice.

He kissed her ear. “I missed you, Emma.” 

“You told me. Numerous times.”

“Let me tell you again." 

She rolled in his embrace and took his mouth - the same warm, sensual lips that had awakened her on so many different mornings, and had soothed aches and pains, bruises and scrapes, and done things to her that no one, not even her ex-husband, even considered.

Emma drew back and looked into his dear face – oh, he was older now, but the eyes sparkled and the smile still melted her, and the wavy hair, grey but thick, was soft as she ran her fingers through it, ending on his dear cheek, rough with morning stubble. He took her palm and kissed it, then drew her close, his hand once more tracing her shape. 

“Emma,” he said, voice amazed, and she understood him, she understood all the years that went into that name, all the longing, all the lost opportunities.

They had never said much in bed, preferring to let their natural affinities speak for them. Their first coupling the night before had been intense, a slaking of ten years of thirst. The second was far slower, as he explored every inch of her with his hands and mouth, as she counted every scar on his body, old and new. And in between, words never before spoken, admissions of guilt, fear, anger, and at the bottom of it all, love.

Emma now recalled the feel of his hand on her cheek, her breast, her stomach, enumerating what he had missed and how he had missed her, whispering to her how he loved her and was sorry he never told her; and how he had ended, slipping his hand between her legs. 

“Where are you?” she heard him say and Emma blinked, looking into thoughtful grey eyes again.

“Here,” she said, touching his chest. She fancied there was a great deal more that would have to be said, but for now, she wanted nothing save to lay in his arms, feel his mouth, touch his hair, his face, his body, make love to him until she couldn’t breathe…

Her stomach's gurgling rumble filled the silent bedchamber. Steed began laughing.

“Oh, shut up,” said Emma.

He rolled over onto his back. “You’re always hungry afterwards.”

“It’s called expending energy, Steed. It’s not unnatural.”

“Mmm.” He pulled gently on the tendrils of her hair. “Would you like some breakfast?”

Emma laid her head against his chest. He was so warm, so comfortable. Grey chest hairs now mixed in with the dark. She kissed the skin beneath her and sighed.

“I would like a shower, first, if I may.” 

“Bathroom’s there. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with my soap. Towels under the sink.”

Emma struggled out of the big, absurdly soft bed – Steed always liked being surrounded by luxury wherever possible. She padded across the plush carpet to the en-suite bathroom, aware of Steed’s eyes following her naked form.

Like the bedroom, the bathroom was opulent but possessed a certain sparity and cleanliness. As she took out a stack of towels from beneath the sink and started the water running, Emma noted that there were no female trappings. No shampoo bottles, no hairdryers, none of the usual items that would indicate a woman was ever there. She knew that Steed had seen any number of women over the past ten years, but it was quite obvious that none of them left their mark on his home. Although she felt it did her no credit, this somehow pleased her vanity.

He had told her unequivocally last night that he was not seeing anyone at the moment. For all his reputation as a lover of women, Emma knew that he was also still a gentleman.

She was just about ready to get into the share when a gentle (and expected) tap came at the door.

“You mind if I join you?” Steed asked, stepping into the room, still resplendently and distractingly naked.

“The point is to shower.”

He raised his hands. “I am only here to help soap your back.”

Emma laughed and let him join her under the warm water. 

Later – far too late, all things considered – they descended the stairs arm in arm. Emma had borrowed a dressing gown from his closet that completely enveloped her.

Entering the spacious kitchen, Steed slapped both hands together.

“Now, what can I offer you? Eggs, bacon, toast and jam, waffles, french toast, porridge, coffee, tea, champagne…”

“Since when did you start eating breakfast?”

Steed patted his stomach. “Age and infirmity, my dear.”

“I have a word or two to say about that, but I shall refrain for now.”

Steed snapped his fingers. “Eggs scrambled with cream cheese and dates. How’s that?”

“Delicious.” Emma looked around at the pristine and well-organized kitchen. “Can I start the coffee?”

“Thank you. In the jar labeled Thyme. Grinder by the stove.”

She could not repress a smile as they set about their chores. It was the most curious thing, how they slipped back into domestic rhythms. Ten years separated them and yet it felt as though she had just returned from a week’s holiday at the most.

Soon the kitchen was filled with the mixed aromas of melting butter and brewing coffee, Steed handily chopping up the dates on one counter while Emma kept an eye on the percolator. She almost didn’t hear him when he began to speak.

“I thought we’d go riding later, if you’re…not busy,” he said to the cutting board.

“I’m not busy.”

“I’d like to show you over the stables. I just bought a new mare, a real beauty…” 

Emma sat back with her cup of coffee and listened as he talked, barely processing what he said. She enjoyed the sound of his voice again, taking such joy in describing the horse to her, as though he made it himself. There was a sweet, boyish quality to Steed that she was glad to see had not dimmed with age. There were other things that had not dimmed, too. She admired the shape of his body through his dressing gown, the broad chest and shoulders, the still powerful legs, thighs… 

“...and then maybe an early dinner at this little place just down the road?” he concluded, distracting her again from her contemplation. “Again if you’re not needed elsewhere.”

Steed stared very intently at the dates, his voice a little tight. Still uncertain, even after last night. Emma felt a little uncertain herself, and realized that she'd been half afraid he’d only to offer to drop her in town.

“It’ll take some time, Steed,” she said, quietly. “But I’m willing to make it work if you are.”

“I want you to be certain that I’m … that this is what you want.”

“Are you certain?”

“Dead certain.”

“So am I.” 

“Ah. Good.” He set the knife down and started on the eggs.

They were halfway through breakfast, and Emma was explaining her latest art project when they heard the door open and shut. Steed glanced at the clock over the stove.

“That’ll be the children,” he said. “I was hoping they’d hold off on today. You don’t mind, do you?”

“The children?” 

He didn’t have time to explain before a young man and woman entered the kitchen, gabbling together. They stopped short, both in speech and in movement, when they saw her.

“Well, hello!” said the young man, putting both elbows on the counter and grinning at her. 

“Mike Gambit, and…Purdey,” said Steed, waving his fork at them. “What are you doing here?” 

“Steed, why don’t you introduce your lady friend?” Gambit was around the counter and had Emma’s free hand in his before she could move. “Mike Gambit. It is a pleasure.”

“Mm!” was all Emma could manage around a mouthful of egg. 

“This is Emma,” said Steed, obviously repressing a laugh.

“Emma!” Gambit slipped into a chair opposite her. “A lovely name. So…exotic.”

Emma swallowed. “I’ve been called many things, Mr. Gambit, but I don’t think ‘exotic’ was ever one of them.” 

“She’s got a sense of humor, too. I say, Steed, you can pick them. And please, call me Mike.”

“Gambit, what do you want?” said Steed.

“It can wait.”

“We were having breakfast.”

“Emma…” said Purdey, her blue eyes narrowing and then widening again in recognition. “Steed! Not…”

“Emma Peel,” said Emma, disengaging her hand from Gambit’s with some difficulty. “Although I’ve changed my name since the divorce. It’s now Emma Knight.” 

Gambit gaped. “Emma Peel."

“Emma Peel,” said Purdey. For a moment Emma rather felt like an historical exhibit as the pair of young people openly stared at her.

Purdey was the first to speak. “Well, then we had better get out of here.”

“But you’re…you’re THE Emma Peel?” said Gambit. 

Emma smiled. “I’m not certain if there’s another in existence, but I am certainly A Emma Peel.”

“Gambit…” Purdey seized his arm and pulled him from his chair. “We’ll call later, Steed.”

“Thank you, Purdey.” 

Emma noted the exchange, very slight – Purdey’s smile, happy if a little wistful, and Steed’s respondent nod. Then the pair were gone and they were alone once more.

“Rather pretty,” said Emma.

“Yes, Gambit’s a good-looking fellow.”

“I was referring to the girl, Steed.”

Steed cleared his throat. “She’s very sweet. And very dangerous.”

“You always did have an eye.”

“Purdey is a colleague.”

Emma waved her fork in his face. “So was I.”

“She’s young enough to be my daughter. Grand-daughter even.”

“Age has nothing to do with it. You’re a very attractive man. Gentle, generous…” 

“Do go on.” 

Emma laughed. “If I were her, I’d have a crush on you.”

He grabbed her hand. “And as you’re you?”

“Don’t press your luck.”

But she knew he must have seen the answer in her face, for he kept a strong grip on her hand even as his eyes spoke of other things entirely.

“I love you, Emma,” he said. “I never said it before. I wanted to, but I never could quite bring myself to do it. I never stopped loving you.” He sighed. “It’s been rather a problem over the years, you know.”

A lovely warmth spread over her body. She rose out of her chair and slipped into his arms.

“Darling Steed,” she said, stroking his hair. “I knew.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I was afraid.” 

“Are you still afraid?” 

“No.” She kissed his lips. “I love you, Steed.”

They never did make it for that ride, but then neither of them particularly minded.


End file.
